


Happy Xmas

by Mad_Mage



Series: Mage's Christmas specials 2019 [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Attraction, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Happy Ending, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:49:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Mage/pseuds/Mad_Mage
Summary: Sansa wasn’t sure what had prompted her to invite Stannis Baratheon over. Maybe it was the fact that he looked even unhappier than Sansa felt. Maybe it was the fact that the control over his emotions was hanging by a thread. However, it had definitely something to do with the fact that it was Christmas and he was so very obviously as human as her.---Christmas AU featuring two lonely souls, an abundance of snow and overindulgence in mulled wine.
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon/Sansa Stark
Series: Mage's Christmas specials 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567441
Comments: 24
Kudos: 103





	Happy Xmas

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing’s mine, I’m just a poor mad mage.  
> \---  
> Welcome to the bonus part of my Christmas specials series! This one is a one-shot and my very first Stannis/Sansa, so I hope you’ll enjoy reading it :)

The snow calamity seemed to be almost over, Sansa hoped as she listened to the news on the radio. Her phone was still without a signal, as was the TV. The airport was still closed – not that it mattered now. Her traveling bag was forlornly sitting next to the apartment’s door, a sad reminder of her ruined Christmas plans. She was lucky that the electricity in her neighborhood was on. Some people were without heat and hot water and Sansa didn’t think they would be distressed that all flights to and from Storm’s End had been canceled or redirected as soon as the snowstorms had hit the coast. That had been three days ago. That meant that had been freezing in their homes for that whole time – she was one of the lucky ones and should feel like it.

Sansa had seen her fair share of snowstorms up in the North – and they were usually more vicious, with biting winds and temperatures dropping far below zero – but she hadn’t been prepared for what passed as a winter in the Stormlands.

She peered out of her window. Just last night, the world outside resembled a white hell and now, Storm’s End was buried under mountains and mountains of heavy wet snow. She observed the streets thoughtfully; they had been just plowed and first people appeared in her line of sight. Great. It looked like it was possible to venture outside again, at least for a breath of fresh air. She had been getting restless.

Her neighbors had happily shared with her their non-perishable foods, taking pity on the poor girl unprepared for the annual weather catastrophe, and Sansa had sworn to be ready for this possibility in the future.

The locals were quite cheerful about the whole situation, Sansa had noticed. She smiled slightly as she watched a group of children run headfirst into the tall mountains of snow that had been mounded up at the corner. It was getting dark but they didn’t mind. Children, she sighed. Sansa could faintly hear their cries of delight even from the distance and through the thick glass of her windows, and she was maybe a little bit envious of their obviously good mood. 

Watching the children reminded her painfully of where she was supposed to be right now. They reminded her of her younger siblings. She felt terrible. It would be the first Christmas ever she would not spend with her family, surrounded by the madness of the Stark Christmas traditions. She hadn’t seen her parents and siblings since the beginning of the semester and to her utter shock, she missed them all terribly; even her fights with Arya. The reason for her absence was simple.

Storm’s End was too far from Winterfell for Sansa to make the trip by car – or gods forbid, by train. The number of changes of trains she would be required to make was insane and the cost of flight tickets wasn’t something that encouraged traveling home more often.

It was her own damned fault for insisting on studying in Storm’s End, she scolded herself as she stood up from the window. But Sansa had wanted the distance, she had looked forward to the peace and quiet of her own place, the freedom of it. She loved her family, no doubt about that, but her siblings were tolerable in small doses only. She wouldn’t call it running, exactly, but the older Sansa got, the less patience she had for their teasing and often hurtful remarks.

Now here she was on Christmas Eve, alone and snowed in and about to spend the holidays in her tiny flat without any company and with canned food. She shook her head, a slight chuckle bordering on a sob escaping from her.

“No way I’m going to just sit around and throw myself a pity party,” she muttered as she made her way to the wardrobe, pulling out her warmest clothes. The streets appeared to be passable at least and the locals were already venturing back into the outside world. If they were at least half as stubborn as she suspected them to be (she had lived in the city for almost three months, after all), they would not allow something as trifling as three meters of snow to deter them from enjoying the holidays.

Wiping away the traitorous tears from her cheek, she wrapped her favorite scarf around her neck and headed toward the door. Determination flooded her veins, warming her heart. With her decision made, she felt lighter already.

First things first, however. The bakery two streets down had opened as soon as snowplows had made it to that part of the city. Upon discovering that little fact, Sansa happily stocked her apartment with freshly baked goods. On her return trip, she noticed that the corner shop had also opened and she immediately raided it as well. Not that there was much left to buy but it was enough to pull off a decent dinner for once – and a little extra.

Baking had always been one of the ways that helped her find her lost peace. Sansa’s fondest memories were centered on the enormous kitchen in Winterfell and her Mum as the two of them baked delicious treats for the rest of the wolf pack… 

Looking down at the baking sheet full of gingerbread, Sansa couldn’t help but smile. It was Christmas, after all. If she couldn’t have her family and an overdecorated Christmas tree, she was going to have gingerbread and mulled wine and she was not going to be alone for the whole night. No, thanks, that wouldn’t happen. There was one Stark Christmas tradition that Sansa could uphold on her own.

Sansa made sure that everything in the kitchen had been properly turned off and then slipped on her beanie, winter coat, high boots, and gloves. Wrapping the scarf around her neck one more time, she locked the door and made her way back outside. It was almost midnight and there was a place she needed to be.

***

He wasn’t sure how he felt as he skulked inside the church. Ridiculous didn’t even begin to cover it. His hands were tightly fisted and he knew that he was scowling fiercely, just thinking about what he had been reduced to do.

Shireen was his daughter. He had every right to see her at Christmas. Who did Selyse think she was to deny him that basic right? He had been her husband once. Stannis didn’t ask too much, did he? He just wanted to see his only child on the holidays that were all about family and kindness and good deeds. But no. His ex had refused him, quite happily, gleefully, and had slammed the bloody door right into his glowering face.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm down, grasping at the last shreds of his usually legendary self-control. He wasn’t here to make a scene. The last thing he needed was another confrontation with his ex right in front of their daughter. He could behave.

Repeating it inside his head, Stannis slowly inched to the nearest free seat and all but collapsed on the bench heavily, gritting his teeth and ignoring the curious look of the person next to him. His height made sure that he could see the choir in the front clearly and Stannis felt his shoulders relax as soon as he found his daughter.

She had grown, he could swear that she had.

Shireen caught sight of him because she beamed widely, the scars on her cheek stretching slightly, and she waved. Stannis forced himself to smile as he waved back. Yes, she had grown and he hadn’t been there to see it. Damn you, Selyse.

The church was full but he wasn’t surprised by it. People in Storm’s End were hardy folk and there wasn’t much that could stop them from attending the Midnight Mass. He knew there wasn’t force on this earth strong enough to keep him from coming here tonight. The idea that snow could was laughable.

He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to focus on the carols the kids were singing. He would not be thinking about the mess his marriage had turned out to be. He would definitely not think about that redheaded bitch that had ruined him (he should have known that it had been a trap, a way for Selyse to pin the blame for their divorce on him – he should have wrung Melisandre’s neck and sent her severed head back to his in-laws).

Now, that forced him to chuckle darkly, grimacing. That woman had the alarming ability to bring out the worst in him. Shaking his head, Stannis rubbed at his face and then jumped out of his skin. Someone touched him! Eyes snapping open, he glared at the person who had placed her hand on his fist unexpectedly.

She was startled and snatched her hand back as if burnt when she met his gaze.

Stannis blinked and then blinked again, all the anger and annoyance leaving him at once. He had never seen eyes so blue, like a summer sky, and he was keenly aware that he was still scowling right into the poor soul’s face.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You looked like you were in pain and… I’m really sorry for startling you.”

“No.” His voice sounded like sandpaper and Stannis watched as the girl shrunk further away from him at his clipped response. Clearing his throat, he added, “It’s me. I’m sorry for… scaring you.”

She offered him a small smile and returned to watching the choir, unaware of the fact that Stannis kept staring at her for three or four seconds longer. Scoffing inwardly, he turned away from her and glared at the wooden backrest in front of him.

Why had she done it? Her hand was warm and soft and the memory of the fleeting touch was burnt vividly into his mind – just as the image of her blue, blue eyes was.

Stannis released a long deep breath and grasped the edge of the bench with his hands, gripping it tightly as he found his daughter again. He smiled at her, hoping that he didn’t look like a fool, and resolutely ignored the urge to glance at the girl next to him.

His resolve lasted full three minutes and then he found himself covertly watching her from the corner of his eye. She was something else entirely. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was but he just couldn’t seem to stop himself from looking at her.

She was pretty enough but that hardly warranted that sort of reaction from him. He had met numerous beautiful women in the course of his life and outward beauty more often than not didn’t transcend inward. There had been only one instance when an attractive exterior had tempted him – and it had cost him dearly.

His whole hand seemed to be on fire from the touch. Stannis bit down on his tongue and closed his eyes again. She seemed sincere, though. Had he ever encountered a genuinely kind stranger? He doubted that. Even Davos, the only man he was willing to call a friend, had been initially rather cautious around Stannis and the storm cloud of gloom that usually floated around him.

Damn, she caught his staring and shot another slight smile his way. What the hell did that mean? People did not smile at Stannis. It was confusing. Did she want something from him? That was most likely it, he decided and clenched his jaw.

The following minutes were uncomfortable for him. Stannis wasn’t religious so the proceedings were something to be endured and he divided his attention between watching his daughter and the girl on the bench on his left. What was worse, she kept smiling at him whenever she had caught him looking her way – which happened to be often. It was mortifying, utterly unlike him. Absolutely absurd. And why the hell was he noticing the fullness of her pink lips? This was getting out of hand.

The mass was finally over and the children started to leave the church with their parents. Stannis shot up from his seat, determined to at least say hello to Shireen. The slight smile on his face froze, however, when he saw Selyse and her sour expression as she was shaking her head at him.

Did she think she could keep him from approaching with that look? His jaw clenched and he took a menacing step forward.

“I don’t think you want to really do that,” said a soft voice to his left and there it was again, the burning. Stannis’ mind came to a screeching halt as he glanced down at his wrist and those gentle fingers holding it so very lightly.

Why did her touch seem to burn so much? Was he getting ill?

Raising his eye to look into the girl’s face, he snarled, “Excuse me?”

“It’s a terrible idea. Your ex looks like she is itching for a fight and while I don’t doubt that you can dish it out just as well as you can take it… Do you truly want your kid to see that? Hear whatever awful things you are going to snarl at each other?”

“Just who do you think you are? You have no idea what you’re talking about!” he bit out through clenched teeth. Strangely enough, he stood stock still with his wrist in her hold. It would be so easy to just turn around, ignore her completely and start another shouting match with Selyse.

But the girl was right. Stannis did not want his daughter to see him like that. Once upon a time – he hardly remembered those short few years – he had respected and maybe even loved his wife and he didn’t want their daughter to see them behaving like raving lunatics – not any longer, at least.

The girl looked back at him steadily. She was rather tall, he noticed, and she wasn’t fazed in the slightest by his hostile tone and the murderous look on his face.

“Well, I’m Sansa Stark and sorry to drop this on you, but I kind of know a lot about you. Uncle Robert never keeps his mouth shut when he’s drunk. He’s had a field day with your divorce.” 

What? A faint blush colored her ivory cheeks as she said that and Stannis felt his blood pressure rise. Sansa Stark? Uncle Robert? He glared down at her. She didn’t have the typical long face of the Starks – she must take after the wife, then. It hardly mattered. Someone up there must surely hate him. From all the people to meet on Christmas Eve during a mass in one of the smallest churches in the whole damned city, it had to be Ned Stark’s child?

What was a Stark doing so far south anyway? In this city? He would expect Robert had warned them off ages ago. Here be monsters or some other nonsense his older brother’s whiskey-soaked brain had come up with… probably with a joke on Stannis’ expanse thrown somewhere in there, too.

“Please,” she whispered, her bright eyes earnest. Sansa’s fingers tightened around his wrist. “Don’t be angry, Mr. Baratheon, I didn’t mean any harm and I certainly didn’t want to insult you. You have to trust me on that.”

Damn those eyes. Her mouth was really nicely shaped. Damn those lips. Damn her for being so… so…

Stannis tasted blood as he bit his tongue to stop himself from speaking rashly. Something about the girl screamed honesty. He finally could see that. She was one of those rare creatures that were genuinely kind and gentle and she was looking at him like she understood what was bubbling just under the surface. She probably didn’t think that he had the personality and emotional range of a lobster.

That was another thing he doubted but for a moment, it felt good to pretend that she did, that there wasn’t any hidden agenda and that this slip of a girl truly only wanted to spare Shireen an embarrassment in the public.

He looked over his shoulder. Shireen was just passing him and she grinned, waving. He waved back again, nodding stiffly. Stannis was sure that his expression was far from smiling but it had probably been enough for his daughter to mouth: “Hi, Daddy.”

Choking on emotions, he watched her disappear with Selyse’s hand on her shoulder. His ex threw a nasty glare his way and then turned her back to him, marching their daughter out of the church.

Sighing, Stannis returned his attention to Sansa and bowed his head slightly.

“You were right. It would have been ugly,” he said, his voice raspy and exhausted. Glancing around, he noticed that they were the last people left in the church. He could hear the others chattering outside, their mood was jovial, festive. He felt the exact opposite.

Slowly, he sank back down on the bench and pressed the heel of his right palm to his forehead. There was no place he really needed to be. His apartment was empty and cold and dark. He didn’t have a tree. There wouldn’t be any presents in the morning. He would probably sleep late, or maybe he wouldn’t sleep at all – there was a mountain of paperwork to go through, there always was. He could get a head start.

Sansa sat down, too, and put his hand into her lap, absentmindedly patting it. That was the moment that Stannis realized that they had been touching all this while. He snatched his hand away and cleared his throat awkwardly. A part of him wanted to ask why she had done that but another part of him didn’t want to bring his own indiscretion to her attention.

“Have you eaten?” she asked him and Stannis stopped breathing. He couldn’t figure out what she meant by that question. Why should she bother? When Stannis opened his eyes, he was met with another earnest expression. It was absolutely baffling. He didn’t know how to answer that.

“Why?”

“Why am I asking you that?” She smiled. Again. Was she daft? People did not smile at him, he wanted to tell her – but it was nice to see, to feel, something so positive directed at him that Stannis didn’t do that. He just nodded. Perhaps Renly’s boyfriend had been right after all. He felt like an idiot.

“Because I have some leftover lasagna from dinner and you look like you could use the company.”

Her answer was just as baffling as the whole meeting and Stannis shook his head in the vain attempt to clear it. Had he expected anything else really? It seemed that Sansa Stark was determined to confuse the hell out of him tonight. He should stand up and leave the church and the girl behind. That’s what he really should do. He would, at any moment.

“Lasagna doesn’t sound much like a Christmas Eve dinner,” he found himself saying instead.

“It’s not.” She chuckled and shrugged. “I was unprepared for the weather. I was actually supposed to be in Winterfell right now but…”

“The airport’s been closed and there wasn’t anything else left in the stores when you got to shopping, right?” Stannis finished. That at least explained what she was doing in the church this evening. He supposed that she was studying in Storm’s End and that explained her presence in the region. If his brain would focus on the current situation and wouldn’t get distracted by the way the candlelight reflected in her eyes, Stannis would figure the girl out.

“Something like that.”

There was a brief moment of silence and Stannis took the opportunity to really look at the girl – not just steal covertly glance from the corner of his eye. She was young – no surprise here – and she looked just as miserable as he felt. Of course. The Starks were notoriously family-oriented and at that moment it hit him. They were both lonely, unhappy, without their family on Christmas Eve with their empty, cold, and dark apartments waiting for them. Maybe she wouldn’t sleep tonight as well because there would be no need to get up in the morning. He was probably the only somewhat familiar person in the whole city.

Yes. That would explain why she had bothered to talk to him in the first place – and her invitation. Stannis had been right. She did want something from him after all.

There was only one difference between their unhappy situations. Stannis was certain that Sansa Stark hadn’t done anything to deserve her current predicament while he couldn’t say the same about himself. He had ruined his life entirely on his own. Damn his weakness for redheads.

He was also selfish, he could concede it at this moment. Stannis didn’t want to spend the night before Christmas alone and miserable no more than Sansa – and she had invited him, hadn’t she? What sane man would turn down such an offer – from such a girl? He wasn’t blind and he knew that opportunities to spend the night in a company of a beautiful woman were not going to be a common occurrence.

Stannis rose suddenly and gazed down at her. “Can you cook, Ms. Stark? Or will I get food poisoning from your lasagna if I accept your offer?”

Sansa copied him, chuckling slightly. “I’m a decent cook, Mr. Baratheon, and I can promise that the mulled wine will make it all better anyway.”

“I don’t drink,” he informed her tersely and they proceeded to the front door.

“Oh, right, of course.” Sansa just smiled softly up at him as she simply accepted it without further questions or teasing. Most people acquainted with his brothers usually showed surprise that Stannis chose not to indulge. As if he wanted to be compared to Robert in that regard. It was enough that he had been compared to him most of his life in everything else.

Stannis felt like he should at least try to be nicer to her. He could do that, couldn’t he? They were going to save each other from a miserable night, after all, and he was grateful for Sansa’s show of Christmas kindness, whatever her reasons were.

Not even a lobster like him wanted to spend Christmas completely alone.

***

Sansa wasn’t sure what had prompted her to invite Stannis Baratheon over. Maybe it was the fact that he looked even unhappier than Sansa felt. Maybe it was the fact that the control over his emotions was hanging by a thread. However, it had definitely something to do with the fact that it was Christmas and he was so very obviously as human as her.

She had never met him before, of course, but it hadn’t been difficult to recognize him as he had slipped in the seat next to her. He was tall and broad in the shoulders and difficult to ignore even though he tried not to draw attention to himself. His black hair, strong jawline, and blue eyes were familiar to her. Those traits were usually typical for Baratheons – he did look like both Robert and Renly – and she knew that Stannis lived in Storm’s End. His attention on the girl that must have been Shireen had only confirmed his identity.

Uncle Robert hadn’t spoken kindly about his younger brother and only mentioned how unfortunate his niece was because of the scars. Sansa had often heard that the middle Baratheon had only two modes of operation – stoic coldness and burning fury and was unpleasant to be around no matter the situation.

She had seen so much more in him in those short moments she had known him, though. He clearly loved his daughter and was wounded by the way his ex-wife had denied him the opportunity to talk to the child. He had been lonely – stunned that someone even considered talking to him without any ulterior motive. It had been heartbreaking to see, to realize. Sansa should know, often feeling like the odd one in her loud and brash family.

Would Arya one day talk about her in the same way Uncle Robert talked about Stannis? Like she was the spoilsport, the bore? Suddenly, Uncle Robert’s jokes weren’t so funny anymore and appeared needlessly cruel. 

The middle brother was a little bit harsh but Sansa didn’t need to be a genius to understand that it wasn’t without reason and on this night of all nights, she didn’t want the poor man to be alone. It seemed logical to invite him over – she didn’t want to be lonely either.

That his imposing physical presence made her warm all over – made her feel safe in that unreasonable Stormlands winter – was an added bonus. He was too old for her to be thinking about him in that way, though, and Sansa had decided to ignore his not so covert looks of interest. It was obvious that he would not act upon that interest. She focused instead on the small victory that he had agreed to come.

They were both miserable but she supposed it was better to be miserable in a company.

She soon realized that he did not do small talk and was lost in his own thoughts, mulling something over. Sansa didn’t wish to bombard him with questions and he seemed to be content to walk in silence – or so she thought.

“Is it your habit to invite strangers into your apartment?” he asked gruffly, frowning down at her when she glanced at him.

“What?” Sansa wanted to laugh it off but his frown only deepened. She noticed that his jaw clenched and he breathed through his nose loudly.

“It’s dangerous, you know,” he told her. “Storm’s End isn’t King’s Landing but we do have our fair share of crime here. Tonight, you even won’t be able to call for help if something happens.”

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to her how the situation might look to him. “No, I don’t do that. Well, just some of my friends from school, of course… and you, obviously. But you’re not a stranger, are you?”

Stannis looked at her for a moment longer before he focused his stare ahead of them. Her answer didn’t satisfy for he spoke again, “We don’t know each other, not truly. Aren’t you afraid?”

“No,” she said immediately and then blushed, ducking her head to avoid his eyes. He turned his head fully to stare at her as if she had lost her mind, so Sansa felt compelled to continue, “I meant to say that you don’t seem like the type to just… I don’t know, jump my bones the moment we make it through the door or something.”

Now, what an idea that was. Sansa took a shaky breath and was surprised to hear him laugh. Well, the sound resembled a laugh but it lacked any sense of mirth. He snorted, “Don’t I?”

The derision in his voice was evident and when she glanced up to look at him, his eyes were watching her intently. He shook his head and turned away, forcing out, “You have obviously not heard the latest rumors, then.”

Latest rumors? Oh! Sansa knew she was blushing fiercely as the realization hit her. She had heard what Uncle Robert had said. It wasn’t pretty. He had been so gleeful when he had brought them the news surrounding Stannis’ divorce. How self-satisfied Robert had been when his always so proper and prim younger brother had found himself a mistress and what an awful scandal that had been. How that woman had been more than willing to smear the name of her lover, going into very personal details in the court. Sansa had no doubt that the homewrecker had been paid for that – no decent person would try and hurt another human being like that without a hefty sum.

Stannis was clenching his hands and gritting his teeth, his brows were drawn together as he scowled at nothing in particular. He stopped walking and Sansa watched his shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths.

Surely he wasn’t thinking that she would even consider that? It must have been unbearable for him, the spectacle his mistress had made in the court. Sansa could never speak about the privacy of her bedroom so openly and she couldn’t even imagine her mortification if it escaped to public.

Sansa swallowed and took a step closer to him, gently laying her hand on his fist. Stannis snapped his head to look at her, startling at the contact. The expression in his eyes was unexpectedly helpless. It also made her knees quite weak. His blue eyes were so dark, so intense and deep.

“I don’t believe that,” she told him in a clear, determined voice. “Half the city is without electricity, other parts are still buried under snow, there’s no signal and it can be dangerous outside, that’s true… but tonight and with you, I feel safe.”

Stannis searched her eyes for a moment and then he nodded. She felt his fist relax and she pried it open, slipping her fingers in between his. It was so nice to hold his hand that she didn’t want to let go. Smiling up at him, only slightly, she tugged at his hand and started to walk again.

“Come on, it’s getting cold.”

***

Stannis let her drag him forward, utterly floored by the simple gesture, by the sincerity in her face and in her eyes. He could not remember another occasion when someone apart from his daughter had expressed their trust in him so openly – or at all.

“Stannis,” he heard himself saying. “I think you should call me Stannis.”

“Alright.” She agreed readily, flashed him a brighter, more cheerful smile, and then leaned up and pecked his cheeks; first the left one, then the right one. Since she was already holding his right hand, she shook it only a little and then quickly hugged him before she continued to drag him forward. “I’m Sansa, then.”

In the Stormlands, it wasn’t customary to exchange hugs or kiss cheeks, not even when meeting good friends and he doubted that those tough Northmen would do something like that either – but he should not forget that Sansa’s mother came from the Riverlands. Perhaps it was a normal occurrence there when people agreed to use given names?

It still didn’t make the situation less unsettling for him. People generally avoided touching him, even by accident. The tips of his ears were red and his cheeks were burning from her touch. His hand caught in her grasp was on fire. Was it even possible that the girl had no idea what she was doing to him with her openness? Was it possible that someone even could be this… tactile?

Chancing a glance at her honest face, he believed so. Every bloody touch she had bestowed on him had been innocent. She wasn’t like Melisandre and her teasing, deliberate moves that had been driving him crazy, that had been carefully planned to make his control snap like a dry twig.

Just as Sansa seemed to trust him to behave like a gentleman, Stannis trusted her to not be that sort of woman. He didn’t want her to be – he liked the idea of Sansa Stark as a young woman of integrity and morals. It suited her.

Her apartment building wasn’t far from the church so Stannis didn’t have much time to compose himself. He only managed to regain his normal color when the made it to her floor.

“Come in, and watch your head,” she told him, laughing softly as she unlocked the door and disappeared inside.

Stannis dutifully ducked his head as he went through it, smiling wryly at the doorframe and glancing up at the low ceiling. He could reach it without any difficulty. Then he glanced back at Sansa who was getting out of her coat at that moment. She had already pulled off her beanie and scarf so her long hair was free.

It was loosely braided in a northern style, he noticed. It was also red – not Melisandre’s bloody red but a wonderfully natural shade of fiery red. He swallowed and glanced away, mechanically unbuttoning his coat and hanging it next to the door.

“Oh, sorry,” she chirped as she brushed by to do the same.

Stannis gritted his teeth when he caught the smell of gingerbread clinging to her hair and clothes. She was way too close to him and he held his breath, refusing to breathe her in.

“Come in and make yourself comfortable while I get you your dinner.” She moved away as if nothing had happened and Stannis released his breath and nodded, watching her skip toward the door leading presumably to the kitchen.

Her apartment was small. He took one long step and was standing in her cozy living room. By small Stannis meant tiny. There was just enough space for an undersized couch that seemed to accommodate maybe two people – and only one comfortably. He looked around, looking desperately for an armchair or another place to sit. He was quite positive that he did not want to sit next to Sansa, not after the realization that she was not only a beautiful and kindhearted woman who was overly tactile but also a redhead.

He found that particular hair color enthralling.

Tugging at the collar of his shirt, he cleared his throat uncomfortably and fumbled with the top button. Was it just him, or was the room overheated? It would be just wonderful to repay Sansa’s kindness, her trust, by behaving discourteously – or like the sexually repressed animal Melisandre had said he was. She deserved better than that – even having those thoughts about her was disrespectful to her person.

Ned Stark’s daughter, he repeated inside his head when she started to hum that one Christmas song he knew well but never seemed to remember its name. Bloody hell, she was Ned Stark’s daughter.

Pulling his sweater off, Stannis stiffly sat down on the couch and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the loud pounding of his heart that seemed to be way too excited by the possibility of sitting so close to her. Bloody traitorous heart. She definitely did not view him of all people with any sort of romantic interest, did she? What woman would? Even his ex-wife hadn’t been able to get away from him fast enough.

He didn’t notice when Sansa returned until she cleared her throat. Jumping up a little, Stannis turned his head to look at her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and she was watching him with wide eyes – so her apartment might be a little overheated, he concluded.

“Everything’s ok?” Sansa gave him a searching look as she put the plate of her lasagna in front of him on the coffee table. 

“Yes, thank you.” Stannis forced his face into a more neutral expression and stopped grinding his teeth. Did she notice his observations? Was it making her wary of him?

“It’s no problem… um…” She blinked at him and then smiled, a little awkwardly. “Well, I’ll leave you to eat in peace and get started on the wine. You don’t mind if I have some, do you?”

Good god, he was in her home and she was asking him if he minded if she had a glass of wine? His expression must be truly off-putting. Stannis grabbed the fork and shook his head. “Of course not.”

She gave him a small smile and nodded. She was probably regretting her invitation now – he certainly regretted accepting. The food was great, though, and his pragmatism didn’t allow him to waste a perfectly good home-cooked meal. Perhaps he should be on his way as soon as he finished eating, he mused as he watched her move back into the kitchen… Was he unable to stop looking at her, now?

He snorted, thinking about lecherous old lobsters. Yes, he would be on his way and quickly before he could do something regretful.

***

Sansa didn’t know what to make of her guest now when he was sitting in her tiny living room, looking uncomfortable and replying in clipped monosyllables. She had felt his eyes on her all the time since she had gotten out of her coat. Was he embarrassed by the fact he found her attractive? He really shouldn’t be because she thought him to be a good-looking man. Especially with most of his winter clothes off – that shirt of his sharply outlined his upper body and what a body that was. Who would have guessed that Uncle Robert’s younger brother was so sinewy?

The grey in his stubble or his thinning hair didn’t seem to matter anymore. He was one of the manliest guys she had ever met. Was it possible that he would act on his original interest in her? She definitely wouldn’t mind. Sansa was pretty sure that Stannis Baratheon had no idea about his own appeal to the opposite sex, though. The question now was – was she going to enlighten him?

Carefully turning down the heat, she watched the dark red liquid in the pot simmer gently.

The answer was no, Sansa smiled to herself. Stannis wasn’t the type for a one-night stand and honestly, neither was she. They would pass the time in awkward conversation and then he would be on his way while she would snuggle in her bed, thankful for his silent brooding company from before.

If they would ever meet again, it would be as people whose families knew each other, maybe as some sort of friends. She would ask him how he was, how Shireen was doing, and he would ask about the rest of the Starks and whether or not Robert was still acting like an idiot or something like that.

She poured herself a mug of the hot wine and returned into the living room. Stannis was standing uncomfortably by the window, his sweater back on and hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t turn as he stared down at the street.

“It’s snowing again,” he said apologetically and glanced at her. There was a grimace on his face Sansa wasn’t sure she liked.

With cautious steps, she went to stand next to him and peered outside. Oh, great. The white hell of previous days was back. Another snowstorm hit the city. They didn’t need to say it out loud – Stannis was going to wait out the storm in her apartment. There was no way she was letting him out in that horrible weather.

She sipped her wine for several moments watching the whirlwind of snowflakes outside her window while he watched her, not even trying to pretend otherwise. Her apartment was warm but Stannis was radiating heat. She was acutely aware of how close she was standing to him and she could swear that her whole being was tingling from the proximity.

“I’m sorry for imposing,” he sighed.

“Nonsense,” she scoffed, turned around and glared up at him. Whoever was responsible for this behavior from him, Sansa was going to find them and kick their balls (she was pretty sure it was Uncle Robert). Stannis might be taciturn but he wasn’t unpleasant to be around. “I’m happy that you’re here. Can you imagine how scared I had been until the snowing stopped? Now, I know there’s no reason to be scared because I have a strong Stormlander with me.”

He gave her an incredulous look and then his face darkened, the raging blizzard from outside somehow making it right into his eyes. He leaned over her, hissing, “Are you mocking me?”

“No!” She scowled right back at him. He was impossible. Then she shook her head and putting her mug on the windowsill, she put her palms on his shoulders to brace herself. The look in Stannis’ eyes couldn’t be described as anything but panicked as Sansa leaned up and brushed her lips against his.

“I’m not mocking you,” she told him seriously when she let go. Her eyes flicked over his shocked face – he didn’t move, he didn’t seem to breathe, hands still clasped behind his beck, head slightly bowed towards her, the expression in his wide eyes shattered. Stepping away from the window and from him, she grabbed her mug and went to sit on the couch.

“I think I could like to have you around very much, actually.” Here went her decision to remain on friendly terms only with him. As soon as she said those words, though, Sansa knew they were true. She could see herself liking him and not only for the shape of his body and the attraction that seemed to be burning between them.

“You could?” He asked hoarsely and she wanted to scream at the distrust in his voice. Was it really so difficult to believe that?

“I think so. If you would like to, that is.” Sansa was keenly aware of the fact that she started to blush. She took another sip of her wine. “We could get to know each other and then decide if there could be something else.”

He slowly and stiffly moved to sit next to her, staring at her the whole time. Stannis’ eyes seemed to be constantly returning to her hair and she watched him swallow before he focused on her face. “Something like what?”

“Something involving us without clothes in a bed, for a start…” Sansa took a deep breath and shook her head, glancing down into her mug. She couldn’t believe that she had said that. The wine had to be stronger than she had thought. Braving the coming storm, though, she looked Stannis in the eyes again and reached for one of his hands – they were surprisingly not tightly fisted. He immediately turned his hand palm up and clasped her fingers with his.

“Is that… all?” he asked gravely. Stannis was frowning as he waited for her to continue and she wasn’t sure but he looked nervous, hopeful even. Could he really be interested in a real relationship with strings and emotional baggage and all that?

Sansa glanced away momentarily but then she returned her gaze to him. “I’m not really into casual relationships, Stannis.”

He gave a curt nod and then he glanced at the mug in her hand and took it from her. “May I?”

“Sure,” she said and then watched as he emptied the rest of the mug in one long swallow.

“It’s rather sweet,” he commented and put it on the table. Then he reached for her other hand and clasped them both between his palms, staring at them for a moment and gathering his thoughts.

“You should know, before this progresses any further, that I am honored you would consider a relationship with me,” he said, faltering. His hold tightened. “I’m not sure, however, that it is something you truly want to have with the likes of me, Sansa. You are…”

“If you are going to say too young, I’ll resort to violence.”

That earned Sansa a small smile. It transformed his whole face and Stannis seemed somehow younger, boyish – it was easy to see Renly in him when he truly smiled like that.

“And don’t say that you’re too old either,” she advised him.

“Alright, I won’t.” Stannis shook his head and raised his eyes to meet hers. “It doesn’t change the truth, though. You are a vibrant young woman and deserve something better than an ill-tempered man years and years older than you. Even if we turn out to be compatible, you’ll only resent me ten years from now when you realize that being tied to me is holding you back…”

“Stop it!” Sansa tugged at his hands and he fell silent, watching her mournfully. “Are you attracted to me?”

He closed his eyes and nodded resignedly.

“That’s good then, I’m quite attracted to you, too, you know,” she said cheekily and rose. She called out to him from the kitchen, refilling her mug and getting one for him as well. “Now, we are going to get drunk on mulled wine and spend the rest of the night talking – just talking, I tell you because I’m very bad at one-night stands and having sex is a sure way to get in a serious relationship with me. How does that sound?”

“I don’t drink and I am a lousy conversationalist,” Stannis said as she pressed his own mug of hot sweet wine into his hands and flopped down next to him. He brought it to his lips nonetheless and took a sip, watching her intently. “I’m also not sure that it’s a good idea to lower our inhibitions.”

“No, it’s a wonderful idea.”

***

Stannis wasn’t used to alcohol and he found himself tipsy quite soon. His heavy built was his only saving grace in this situation, otherwise, he would have made a fool of himself very quickly.

They worked on the potful of mulled wine throughout the night and to his utter shock, Sansa managed to turn him into a tolerable conversationalist… not that he was able to actually say the word ‘conversationalist’ after the third mug of wine. His vocabulary was shrinking at an alarming speed but she didn’t seem to mind.

A drunk Sansa was just as alluring as a sober Sansa, he decided sometime after four in the morning as he watched her falling asleep on the couch – on him, to be precise. It was strange because Stannis usually detested inebriated people – not that he was able to say ‘inebriated’ either. There was just something about her rosy cheeks, gentle voice and soft giggles that seemed to put him at ease.

She made him laugh and Stannis had discovered that he had a new favorite sound in the world – the sound of Sansa Stark laughing at his dry comments as if they were the most humorous jokes she had ever heard. He was quite certain that he hadn’t met a sweeter woman in his entire life and he wondered how the hell it was possible that she was Ned Stark’s daughter.

Stannis closed his eyes and shook his head. That was a sobering thought and it pierced the pleasant bubble of intoxication abruptly.

He was currently sprawled on a couch with Ned Stark’s young daughter resting against him. They were both drunk and Stannis could hardly forget his burning desire to kiss her lovable lips. He had resisted, humbled and moved by her willingness to try for something meaningful between them. However, it had only served to remind him what he would be robbing her off if he agreed.

He would destroy her, seep the kindness and cheerfulness out of her, destroy everything good and sweet and pure in her… Eventually, she would resent him just like Selyse. Then Eddard and Robert would come and murder him for doing that to young Sansa and he would let them…

Sansa mumbled something against the skin of his neck and wrapped her arm across his chest. Stannis swallowed and rubbed at his eyes, gazing down at the top of her head, succumbing to the temptation and kissing her fiery hair. She smelled like gingerbread. She had baked earlier on Christmas Eve, she had told him.

Dear God, his emotions and thoughts were all over the place. No wonder he didn’t usually drink. Stannis growled. He was maudlin. How abhorrent. If he could just really turn off his emotions and be like a lobster… It would make Renly happy and it would spare Stannis this dilemma.

Why had she suggested the option? Why had she been interested in getting to know him? No one wanted that. No one wanted him around…

“Stannis?” Sansa raised her head, looking at him sleepily. “You think too loudly.”

“I’ll stop,” he promised. “But you can’t use me as your bed, you’ll hurt your neck sleeping like that.”

She blinked and the smiled lazily. “Right. We should move this to a real bed.”

“I’ll help you.” It wasn’t without difficulty, but Stannis managed to stand up and pulled her into his arms. It was impossible to resist – he doubted that he would allow himself to touch her like that in the morning when sobriety and reality would hit him full force.

“This way?” he asked, stumbling slightly in the direction where he supposed the bedroom was. Sansa just nodded, leaning against him contently.

Her bedroom was unsurprisingly tiny and her bed surprisingly large. Stannis deposited his cargo in the middle of the bed and watched her pull off her shoes, determined to turn around and leave Sansa sleeping alone. Any moment, really. He should stop watching her, it was creepy. Not that the couch was very comfortable, he supposed he would just relocate to the floor anyway.

Just as Stannis was thinking about the floor in Sansa’s living room, he collapsed on the bed next to her and heaved a deep sigh, kicking off his own shoes. That was much more comfortable. He would get up in a minute, he surely would, he thought as he put his arm behind his head.

Sansa reached for the covers, tugged them from underneath him and pulled them over them both. Then she proceeded to snuggle against his side and Stannis moved his arm and wrapped it around her, pulling her even closer. It was so nice, to feel her weight settle against him.

Perhaps he could stay for a moment longer. Yes, that was a good idea.

***

The other side of the bed was still warm when Sansa woke up. Her bedroom was bright – too, too bright – and she couldn’t remember how she had gotten into her bed last night… well, maybe early this morning was more fitting.

She did remember her bedmate quite well, though, She had woken sometime around dawn to the sound of his snoring, prodded Stannis in the ribs and then promptly fallen back to sleep.

“Stannis?” she called out and rolled over when she heard him say,

“I’m still here.”

He was standing at the window, looking out into the white mess that was a raging blizzard. He turned to face her and Sansa stifled a snicker. Hung-over Stannis Baratheon was decidedly an adorable sight. His short hair was sticking up in all directions – even his stubble seemed to be ruffled – and his whole face appeared rumpled and sleepy. His eyes were red and watched her thoughtfully, the expression in them open and soft. There was no frown to be found on his face.

He wasn’t used to drinking so she wondered if the alcohol was still wreaking havoc in his bloodstream. She had a headache – but she always did – and the best way to deal with it was going back to sleep.

“Are you ok?” she asked him softly and started to untangle her hair from the braid, watching as Stannis shifted his weight and then nodded slowly. His hands flexed and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, mesmerized by the movements of her fingers.

“You have beautiful hair,” he whispered and reaching out, he tugged at one of the strands. “Like fire.”

“You like redheads,” Sansa said with a smile. It wasn’t a question, it was rather obvious.

Stannis snorted and his hand fell away. “I should go.”

“No.” She let go of her hair and placed her palm against his cheek. The stubble was surprisingly soft. If she had touched his cheeks during the night, she couldn’t remember it but she remembered how defenseless he had been when faced with any sort of gentleness. “You should be in bed with me, Stannis.”

She stopped him from shaking his head and leaned to press a soft kiss on his lips, mindful of the fact that they had been drinking the night before. “I change the conditions. Sleeping in the same bed as me is the surest way into a serious relationship with me.”

“Be reasonable, Sansa.” He gritted his teeth but he didn’t pull away. “We hardly know each other.”

“Oh? I’m pretty sure I conducted a thorough interrogation yesterday.” She smiled when Stannis moved fractionally closer, chasing after her mouth without noticing. “I’m sure we can continue to get to know each other after two or three more hours of sleep. How’s the storm?”

“Not abating,” Stannis sighed and leaned in to capture her lips. The kiss was just as soft and just as fleeting as hers. He rested his forehead against hers, eyes tightly closed and arms rising to pull her to his chest. Sansa happily returned the embrace and they stayed unmoving for a few moments, basking in the feelings of the greatest victory and the sweetest defeat.

After brushing his lips against her mouth one more time, Stannis leaned back and seriously asked, “Do you happen to have a spare toothbrush?”

Brushing teeth sounded like a wonderful idea – as did showering. Sansa grabbed his hand, grinning, and started to pull Stannis to the bathroom. Her shower stall was tiny but she was sure they would make do.

**Author's Note:**

> *tiptoes around and places this under the Christmas tree, smiling happily*  
> I’m probably the person most surprised by this story. I blame several things for its existence – namely the Midnight Mass I attended on Christmas Eve and conversations including both Jane Austen and Shireen’s pureness that got me thinking about Stannis in an entirely new light. Please let me know what you think – I’m quite nervous about tackling a new pairing. Also, ignore most of the typos and mistakes, I worked through the nights instead of sleeping. Christmas chaos rules the lands!  
> If you haven’t checked out other stories in the series, more about Stark Christmas shenanigans and unplanned attractions can be found in ‘Silent Night.’ If you’d like to see an overload of puppy love and Christmas fluff then ‘Jingle Bells’ is the one for you. And finally, ‘All I Want For Christmas’ is the right story if you’re interested in more attraction with the added fun of playful banter.
> 
> Love, Mage :)


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